


Two Sunday Mornings

by profdanglais



Series: Secret Things [4]
Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Neighbors, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Drabble, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-06-02 12:51:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19441816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/profdanglais/pseuds/profdanglais
Summary: Every Sunday Killian wakes up alone. Until he doesn't.CS neighbours drabble with Brothers Jones and a touch of mutual pining.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little angsty drabble with a happy ending for @kmomof4 after her hard day of adulting

The pillow smelled of honeysuckle but he ignored it, ignored his body’s reaction to it and the memories it evoked. If he let the memories come he would drown in them. He focused instead on the smell of the coffee in his cup and the rum he’d laced it with to dull the ache that took longer to fade than it once had. His hope faded, and the ache grew stronger. Soon there would be only the ache.

He scrolled through his Instagram and all the pictures from the party because sharp pain was better than dull despair, each frame with her smile and her hair that he could still feel sliding through his fingers and her damned beautiful face cut him, razor sharp, but he would rather bleed than crumble and so he looked at every one.

His thumb traced the contours of her face as it had the night before when she fell asleep and he forced his exhausted body to stay awake because the only time he could touch her as he truly wished to was when she couldn’t feel it. He clenched his jaw, then and now, to keep the words in, words he’d sworn he would never speak. Not until she spoke them too, and she never would.

She’d never even stayed the night.

The doorbell buzzed and he considered just ignoring it. Company was the last thing he needed. What he needed was time, to brood and to wallow, to let his emotions out in private so he could manage them in public, so he could see her in the elevator and at the bar and _everywhere_ and _all the time_ and not fall apart. Not beg her for things he knew she couldn’t give.

The doorbell buzzed again and his phone dinged.

 _Let me in,_ read the text from Liam. _I come bearing breakfast._

He pressed the button to let his brother into the building then opened the door at his knock.

“Now’s not a great time,” he said, but Liam was jovial and stubborn.

“I’m only here for three weeks, is it too much to ask for one morning with you during that time?”

“You’re here to see Elsa’s family, not me.”

“I’m here to see all my family.” Liam removed two plates from the cupboard and set them next to the bag he’d brought, and Killian actually smiled. Only his brother ate a breakfast burrito off a plate.

The smile vanished as Liam handed him a burrito, and an opinion. “So last night was fun.”

“Yeah.” Killian set the plate aside and gulped his coffee.

“It was nice to finally meet your friends.”

“You’ve met them before.”

“Not all of them.”

Killian poured himself another cup of coffee, heavier on the rum this time. “Not everyone at the party last night was a friend.”

Liam looked at him intently. “What about Elsa’s cousin? Is she a friend?”

“No.”

“I saw you leave with her.” At Killian’s look of alarm, he hurried to continue. “No one else did,” he said. “But it stuck me as odd; you hardly spoke to each other all evening and then I find you kissing in the hall, the way people don’t kiss unless they’ve already been naked together.”

Killian snorted, going to the window so his brother couldn’t see his face. “That’s a lot to read into a kiss.”

Liam sighed. “If you’d just talk to me brother,” he pleaded, in a voice almost too quiet to hear.

“About what?”

“About whatever has you so on edge.”

Killian kept his back turned. “It’s nothing.”

“It obviously is!” Liam insisted. “Does it have something to do with Emma?”

Killian gave a bitter laugh, before he could stop himself.

“Yes,” said Liam. “It clearly does.”

Killian snapped, spinning around to snarl at his brother. “What do you want to hear Liam?” he demanded. “That we’ve been having sex for a year and she still won’t stay the night? That every Sunday morning I wake up to her scent on a pillow that’s already cold? Do you want to hear how I live in fear of slipping up, of being too affectionate, touching her too gently or kissing her too hard and driving her away? That I am fucking desperately in love with her while she just sees me as a convenient fuck? Is that what you want to hear?”

“Oh, Killian…” Liam trailed off, wishing he had something to offer. Some wisdom or brotherly advice, but in the face of Killian’s raw pain he had nothing.

“I’m sure you’ll understand when I say I do not wish to talk about it,” said Killian stiffly, and turned away again. 

Liam unwrapped his burrito and took a bite but he’d lost his appetite, even for the only American food he truly loved. He set the burrito back down on the plate. “Have you— ever considered she might feel the same?” he tried.

“She doesn’t.” Killian’s voice was flat. “I’ve accepted that.”

“Perhaps if you just asked her—”

“No.” Killian raked his fingers through his hair then shoved his hands in his pockets, full of nervous energy and no outlet for it. “I— I need her, Liam, however much of her I can have. If this is all I’ll ever get, I’ll take it, and I won’t rock the boat. I can’t. I can’t risk losing her, and I don’t bloody care how pathetic that makes me.”

“It doesn’t make you pathetic, brother. Just in love.”

—

Liam left his brother’s apartment half an hour later, closing the door behind him just as one down the hall opened. He smiled, a bright, cheerful smile that revealed nothing of what he knew of the blonde who emerged from it.

“Hey,” he said. “If it isn’t my wife’s favourite distant cousin.”

“Oh! Uh, hi Liam,” she replied, eyes flitting to Killian’s door. “Are you coming or going?”

“Going. I’ve just brought Killian some breakfast.”

“Ah. Um. How is he?”

“Fine.”

She smiled, but her face was strained. “So what are you doing today?”

“I’m off to collect Elsa and the kids and then we’re going to do some sightseeing.”

“Oh, that’s nice. Is, um, Killian going too?”

“Sadly no. I invited him but he declined.”

“Oh.” She looked at the door again, with an expression that could only be described as _yearning_. “Do you know what he’s doing instead? Meeting friends, or—”

“Emma.” Killian might kill him for this, but Killian was also a stubborn arse. And, apparently, a blind one. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

She shook her head and took a step back, fingers clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother him.”

“Love.” Liam took her hand, gently prying her fingers off the strap, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I can promise you that there is nothing my brother would love more than to be bothered by you.”

Her fingers gripped his painfully. “Really?” she whispered.

“Really. Just ask him. Invite him to go for a walk or something.” Killian could use the fresh air, he thought. His ‘coffee’ had been nearly half rum.

“A walk? Would he want to—”

“Killian would cheerfully walk to the moon if you were with him,” said Liam firmly, hiding his smile as hope sparked in her eyes. “Trust me, Emma. I know my brother.” With a final squeeze of her hand he turned and headed for the lift.

He heard the knock just as the doors were closing.

—

The following Sunday Liam appeared at Killian’s door again, bearing breakfast. His brother opened it wearing only sweatpants, his face flushed and his hair in chaos.

“Now’s not a great time,” he said, glancing nervously at his bedroom door.

Liam was jovial, and stubborn. “I’m leaving tomorrow,” he said. “This may be the last breakfast we have together for some time.” He set the bag down on the counter and took out three plates.

“Um,” Killian was clearly scrambling for excuses, then his eyes fell on the plates and he frowned. “Why’d you get three?”

“I thought Emma might like one.”

“Ah.” His brother flushed scarlet. “I’m not sure if she—”

“Emma!” called Liam. “Do you want some breakfast?”

The bedroom door opened and Emma emerged, wearing one of Killian’s t-shirts. Face flushed, hair in chaos. She smiled shyly. “I’d love some, actually. I’m starving.”

“I imagine you are, love,” said Liam, raising an eyebrow. Killian wasn’t the only Jones who could innuendo. Emma went pink to the roots of her hair, but she took the plate from him eagerly. “Who puts a burrito on a plate?” she asked.

“Liam does,” said Killian, putting his arm around her shoulders and kissing her temple before moving to the coffeemaker. “Do you want some coffee, love?”

“I’d love some, darling.”

“I wasn’t talking to you, Liam.”

“Get me a cup anyway.” Liam grinned as he unwrapped his burrito. He lifted it to his mouth but Emma stopped him with her hand on his. He looked down at her, at the soft, happy look on her face.

“Thank you,” she said.


	2. Sunday Afternoon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little companion piece to Two Sunday Mornings that I hope will distract from the real-life angst that’s been going on around here lately. Let’s have some CS angst instead. 
> 
> Same angst as before, just Emma’s POV.

Emma woke early as she always did on Sunday. It was a conditioned response, honed to a razor edge over the past year. It was a survival tactic. She had to wake before Killian did, had to slip out of his arms and his bed and his apartment because if she spent the night with him she might never leave. Or he might ask her to leave, which would be worse. 

She couldn’t bear an awkward morning after, disappointment or annoyance in his eyes when he awoke to find her still there. Polite but pointed remarks about how he had to work or he had plans for later, telling her to go without actually _telling_ her because he was always a gentleman. The thought of that made Emma’s blood run cold, and so she ran herself before thought could become reality. 

He held her tightly as he slept, his face buried in her hair, but she was lithe and practiced and allowed herself only a moment of weakness to stroke his cheek and press a soft kiss to his jaw before wriggling away and rolling off the bed with barely a bounce. Quickly gathering her clothes she tiptoed to the living room to dress and then out the door with no noise save the softest click as it shut behind her. 

In the haven of her own apartment she breathed a sigh that held relief and heartbreak. Relief that she had escaped again, heartbreak that she had to. That she had fallen hard for Killian and his wicked smile and his blue eyes almost from the moment they met, and that nothing terrified her more than finding out absolutely that he didn’t feel the same. She knew he didn’t but as long as she never heard him say so, as long as she kept her feelings buried as deep as they could go and never let him see them, then she could hold on to that small part of him she had. She could keep sleeping with him on Saturday nights, and keep pretending that it was enough, that she didn’t care what he did with the rest of his week. 

Keep pretending. 

With another sigh she took off her clothes again, replacing them with pyjamas and curling up in her bed, refusing to feel cold or alone or to long for the warm embrace of the man she loved, squeezing her eyes shut before the tears could fall. 

—

She was headed for Granny’s, lost in her thoughts, when she heard a deep, jovial voice. 

“Hey,” it said. “If it isn’t my wife’s favourite distant cousin.”

She looked up in surprise. “Oh! Uh, hi Liam,” she replied, unable to stop her eyes from flitting to Killian’s door. “Are you coming or going?” If Liam had just arrived maybe she could get a glimpse of Killian when he opened the door.

“Going. I’ve just brought Killian some breakfast.” 

“Ah.” She swallowed back her disappointment, but couldn’t stop the question. “Um. How is he?”

“Fine.” 

Emma reminded herself that she liked Liam, that he made her favourite cousin very happy and it wasn’t his fault his brother didn’t love her. She attempted a smile, and conversation. “So what are you doing today?”

“I’m off to collect Elsa and the kids and then we’re going to do some sightseeing.” 

“Oh, that’s nice. Is, um, Killian going too?” _Dammit, Emma! Stop mentioning him!_

“Sadly no. I invited him but he declined.” 

“Oh.” She looked at the door again, wondering what was happening behind it. Was he on his phone? In the shower? Was he— “Do you know what he’s doing instead?” she asked, recklessly giving up the pretence, shameless for any scrap of information about him. “Meeting friends, or—” 

“Emma.” Liam’s voice was gentle, his eyes kind. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

She shook her head and took a step back, fingers clutching tightly to the strap of her bag. “Oh, I wouldn’t want to bother him.” _I couldn’t bear his rejection._

“Love.” Liam took her hand, gently prying her fingers off the strap, and gave it an encouraging squeeze. “I can promise you that there is nothing my brother would love more than to be bothered by you.” 

She gripped his hand, far too hard. “Really?” she whispered. 

“Really.” He sounded so confident. “Just ask him. Invite him to go for a walk or something.” 

Emma frowned. “A walk? Would he want to—” 

“Killian would cheerfully walk to the moon if you were with him,” said Liam firmly, and Emma’s heart began to pound. Liam smiled. “Trust me, Emma. I know my brother.” With a final squeeze of her hand he turned and headed for the elevator.

Emma watched him go, her thudding heartbeat making her dizzy. He’d seemed so certain, but could she risk it? If she reached out to Killian and he turned her away it would break her. 

But if he didn’t…

Her hand reached up and knocked on his door. 

“What now, Liam!” said Killian’s voice as the door began to open. “I told you I don’t want— oh! Swan.” He reached up to rub behind his ear. “Er— do you need something?”

He was wearing sweatpants and no shirt and although she had spent as much of the night as she’d dared pressed against his naked body the sight still stole her breath, and she missed his embarrassed wince at his own question. 

“I was wonder—” her voice cracked and she cleared her throat. “I was wondering what you were doing today,” she said. “Liam told me you weren’t going sightseeing with them and I just—” She attempted a casual shrug. “I just wondered.” 

“Oh. Um.” He rubbed his neck again.”Well, I don’t have any plans, really.” 

“I’m just off to get some coffee, if you maybe wanted to come with? Maybe?” 

“You want me to… get coffee with you.” His voice was oddly flat and Emma’s anxious fingers nearly tore the strap off her bag, frantic that he would say no and break her heart. 

“Look, never mind, okay, it was a dumb idea.” Attack was better than defence. “I shouldn’t have listened to Liam.” She turned to go, but he caught her arm. 

“What did Liam tell you?” he asked harshly. 

“Nothing. He just said that— well, he _implied_ that maybe you might like to— to spend time with me.” The words tumbled over themselves in her haste to have them spoken. “I’m sorry he was wrong.” She pulled away from him and turned to go. 

“He wasn’t wrong. Swan, wait.” Killian caught her arm again. “He wasn’t wrong. I’d love to have coffee with you, I was just— surprised by the offer. _You’ve_ never wanted to spend time with _me_ before, out of bed that is.” 

_I always want to be with you._

She had no idea she’d spoken the words in her head until his eyes grew wide and his mouth fell open and his hand on her arm tightened almost painfully. “What?” he whispered. 

She squeezed her eyes shut, pulling against his iron grip. “Nothing. Please let me go.” 

“I can’t.” 

“What?”

“I can’t let you go, Emma. God knows I wish I could. But even though you are unable even to bring yourself to stay all night with me I still can’t let go.” 

“Killian…”

“So you’ll understand I’m sure if I’m rather taken aback when the woman who’s only ever fucked me then left me suddenly wants to go have coffee.” 

She had no response to that. She could only stare at him, wondering if he could possibly mean what she thought he meant. 

He sighed, and released her arm. “What do you want from me, Emma?” he asked, exhaustion and defeat in his voice. “Because you can have it, love, anything you want. Just _tell_ me.” 

“I just want you.” 

“You’ve got me. You always have.” 

“Does that mean—” she couldn’t finish the question.

“It means I fell in love with you embarrassingly quickly and that love has only deepened this past year, despite my most determined efforts to stomp it out, and so there you are, Emma Swan. My heart on a platter. Do with it what you will, I don’t care. I can’t take this limbo we’re in anymore. _Anything_ is better than this.” 

His expression was open and vulnerable in a way she’d never thought to see from him and her heart broke in an entirely different way to the one she’d expected. She had done this to him, was all she could think, and she could make it stop. All she had to do was meet him halfway. 

She took a deep breath. “I fell in love with you too,” she said. “Embarrassingly quickly.” 

He caught his breath. “You did?”

“Yeah. But I couldn’t— I thought— Everyone always leaves me. If I let them too close they leave and I couldn’t stand it if I drove you away.”

“You won’t drive me away.” 

“You can’t know that.” 

“I _can_.” He took her arm again, gently this time, and pulled her close. “Give me the chance to prove it.” 

She sighed against him as his arms came around her and nothing had ever been so terrifying or so right. 

“All right,” she whispered. “Let’s try.” 


End file.
